


Holding on echoes

by Baho



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Bittersweet, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Feelings, Memories, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Natasha Romanov Feels, Past Relationship(s), Protective Natasha Romanov, Relationship Study, Spies & Secret Agents, Tragedy, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, buckynat - Freeform, the author has a lot of feelings as usual, we should say Romanova btw, winterwidow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:07:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28776540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baho/pseuds/Baho
Summary: They used to know each other better than anyone else.But their story was stolen.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Kudos: 14





	Holding on echoes

**Author's Note:**

> *slams hand on the desk* Their story is so tragic send help!

For some reason, he had thought that she’d be identical as she was in his shattered memories. As if she had been frozen in time. Obviously, she wasn’t the same. The whole world had moved on meanwhile he was prisoner out of his mind and she hadn’t been an exception.

She was older, darker, with more blood on her hands and more experience under her belt. And he was certain that if he looked closely enough, he’d discern more scars on her skin and her soul. Carved witnesses of the twisted story of a woman who was both familiar and a stranger to him.

He took place in front of her and started to list all the exits. It had become an unconscious habit a long time ago. Obviously, she had chosen the safest corner of the café. From their table, they could keep a close watch on the door and all the patrons and they were too far from the window for anyone to be able to have a clear shoot at them. Except for Hawkeye or Bullseye maybe. At the same time, he sized every person in the room up. A middle aged woman was occupied at the bar while a customer was waiting impatiently for their order. A bunch of students were either talking quietly or working on their computer. Alone at a table, a man was reading a book, his coffee long forgotten next to his elbow. The only threat in the room was seated in front of him and was calmly observing him as he studied his environment. Finally, he looked at her. So much time had passed and she had barely changed. Same impeccable posture. Same beauty. Same fathomless eyes. Once, he used to be able to read these eyes and this perfectly controlled attitude. Now, he could only envision the shadows hidden behind the cool grey of her irises.

He kept on staring at her, looking for some answers, some lost pieces of the intricate puzzle that was his memory. Was she searching for them too? Did she have these unanswered questions buzzing under her skull? Or did she find back the torn pages from the erased story they had shared? If so, he couldn’t tell. It stung.

"You came."

Not a question nor an affirmation.

"I did. Did you think I wouldn’t?"

At some point, once upon a forgotten time, he would have done anything for her without hesitation. A part of him still would.

"It could have been a trap."

"As if your traps were this boring."

Something shone in her eyes. Maybe hope. Maybe grief. A brief glimmer that was gone too fast for him to interpret it. But he had seen it.

"It’s a bold move to pretend to be able to predict my plans."

"It was a bold move to track me down."

"Is it why you came?"

« I came because I need answers. I came because even if my memories of you are fragments of a distorted mirror, I needed to see you. Because somehow, I missed you. »

"Of course not. I came for free coffee."

She smiled and it was so obviously forced. It was small, but it was something he had been able to recognise. His heart missed a beat. It was small. It was almost nothing at all. But it was a step further in the right direction. A step further from this precipice full of misleading echoes.

"Believe it or not, I didn’t ask you to come here to buy you some cheap coffee."

"I’m disappointed."

"That’s an understandable reaction."

He wanted to ask. Why did she look for him? Did she remember more than he could? Or was she as lost as him?

But he kept quiet as she opened her purse and took something in it. She put a package on the table and pushed it towards him.

He didn’t touch it.

"What is it?"

"Papers. ID, driver licence, passport, credit cards, anything you need to disappear and build yourself a new life."

He had thought a lot about this meeting on his way here. He had tried to imagine how the conversation would go. Some nights, he had dreamed of bright eyes and fiery hair and had woken up with echoes of a distant laugh in his ears. But he hadn’t imagined such an outcome.

He forced himself to stop staring in confusion and raised an eyebrow.

"I can find this kind of stuff by myself, you know? Actually, I can make all of these by myself."

"I know," she said, "but mine are better."

They fell silent. The package rested between them, untouched.

"Why?"

She took a breath and for the first time, her mask of neutrality slipped. Maybe it was a conscious choice, maybe not. Someday maybe, he would be able to read her once again. But for whatever reason, here it was, an unexpected glint of sincerity.

"You don’t have to be on the run forever." She said, her tone as calm and collected as ever but her expression bare. "You deserve some peace."

She rose from her seat and pushed a still full cup of coffee next to the package.

"Here is your free coffee. Goodbye, James."

Speechless, he watched her go without a glance backwards.

"Natalia."

He hadn’t meant to call her by her name. It just had been the only name he had always wanted to call her by. It had felt right. Just like it had felt right when she had called him "James". Did anybody else ever call him "James"?

Her hand stilled above the door handle. She slowly turned to face him, an interrogative eyebrow raised.

He opened his mouth but noticed multiple patrons watching them.

"Are we going to meet again?" Asked James in Russian.

This time, the smile tugging at the corner of her, Natalia’s, mouth was genuine.

"I will find you back eventually."

A blast of wind as Natalia walked out.

He drank her coffee and left, Natalia’s package heavy in his pocket.

As he walked, he felt a little more stable.

A little more real.

A little less clawed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading.  
> Take care


End file.
